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HAPPY HILL 




"she pointed to the other side of the road. 

See page 53 



HAPPY HILL 



BY 

BERTHA LUNT LEACH 

n 



Illustrated by Sidney W. Woodward 




Boston 
The Four Seas Company 
1920 



EC 27 iS20 






'Z&^^^^rrflm 




HAPPY HILL 



T "\ 7HATEVER is written here is not a fig- 
*^ ment of the imagination, or a phan- 
tasm of a dream. I know that an unknown 
law has ever existed, and that it exerts a 
direct and continued influence over us; but 
whether supernatural or natural I cannot 
tell. I merely assert that the spirit which 
God takes away can and does return again, 
and that we feel the power that this in- 
fluence throws over us for good or evil. 

I can truly say that this undefinable some- 
thing, this unseen ghost or spirit, this wind 
that blows, — I know not whence, — has had 
a part in my life ; but my present knowledge 
furnishes me with no certainty of the mys- 
tery of the chasm between life and death. 

Even as I sit here writing, a chill and 
strange shudder creeps over me when I think 

7 



8 Happy Hill 

of the years that I lived in the Ghost House, 
the big haunted house on Happy Hill. Yes, 
the Happy Hill it was called — why, I know 
not, as before it was made into a dwelling it 
was a hospital and knew nothing but sick- 
ness and suffering. 

If you have leisure and will read on, I will 
tell you of a young wife's experience ; of her 
going to the ghost place, and of her leaving it. 

At the age of seventeen years I married a 
man nearly twenty years older than myself, 
and left my girlhood home in Maine to live 
several hundred miles away in the quaint 
town of Milton, where we occupied a large 
house, once a hospital. This property be- 
longed to my husband's father, who had been 
the head surgeon of the hospital and who 
was then a prominent physician in the town. 

The house was a large, three-story build- 
ing with a long wing. The top floor had been 
the men's ward and it still had the rows of 
iron beds, with the little stands beside them, 
and all the regular hospital furnishings. We 
closed up the second and third floors as the 
first floor gave us sufficient space. 

This new home of mine was about three 
miles from town, and could be reached only 



Happy Hill 9 

by a rough country road bordered on either 
side by a heavy growth of low bushes, 
red oak and southern pine trees. There 
were but two or three small cottages 
on lonely spaces. The location of the hospi- 
tal was selected, I suppose, on account of 
the good air and quiet surroundings — more 
quiet than I could have wished, as I dis- 
covered later; for this house had long been 
called the "Haunted House. ,, However, be- 
ing a country girl, I did not mind the lone- 
some surroundings at first, and was pleased 
with my new home and thought it a very 
handsome house. 

As time went on I heard that no one had 
been willing to live there. My husband told 
me he supposed the gossip to be idle talk, 
and thought the place would make us a nice 
home. As I became acquainted with people 
in the nearby town the gossip began to reach 
my ears. 

One old gentleman said, "Think you will 
stay here long? You're holding out pretty 
well. Folks have been afraid to stay here 
since the doctor closed the hospital." 

"Why," I said, "what is the matter? I 
like my home very much. It is nice and very 



10 Happy Hill 

comfortable, and we have such good air. Of 
course the house is too large, but we do not 
use all of it. What is the trouble with the 
place?" 

"Well," he said, "you know it is said, 
though I suppose it is only talk, that all the 
folks here ain't alive; some of the departed 
still wander about." 

I laughed and thought it quite a joke. 

But, as time went on, I continued to hear 
many different stories, and noticed that we 
were asked guarded questions, such as: "Are 
you lonesome here?" "Do you stay alone 
evenings?" One neighbor said: "Used to be 
a family live here, nice folks, — awfully sorry 
when they moved away — best neighbors we 
ever had." I quickly asked why they moved, 
and she answered: "They saw things they 
did not understand, — light in the top ward 
when no one could possibly have been up 
there." 

I was told how a family who had lived 
several miles from here would whip up the 
horses and drive quickly past before they 
got to the rise of the hill, for upon glancing 
up at the top of house in passing, they saw 
flashes of light which some said were blue, 




THE "HAUNTED HOUSE" 



12 Happy Hill 

others green. The lights generally came 
from the windows in the front of the house 
which faced the road, they said. 

Once some people who lived in the house, 
with a number of friends, had tried to solve 
the mystery. They went up to the top ward 
and found it in total darkness, but at the 
same time people looking up from the out- 
side saw the ghost-light flash. 

I tried to forget all this talk and to regard 
it as nonsense, but in spite of myself, my 
mind persistently pondered over it. 

One summer's night at dusk, I strolled out 
on the lawn, and absent-mindedly walked 
quite a distance from the house. It was a 
beautiful night. The moon was rising full 
and clear, the air was soft and balmy, and I 
could not help but feel happy and contented. 
My husband was doing a few chores about 
the house as was his custom before retiring. 

Presently I turned to go home in the quiet 
and peacefulness which seemed to surround 
everything. Absently glancing up, as I neared 
the house, I distinctly saw my husband light- 
ing a match in the top ward. It flamed up 
and went out. I went quickly into the house, 



Happy Hill 13 

and was startled to see my husband coming 
to meet me. 

"Why!" I exclaimed, "Frank, I just saw 
you in the top ward! How did you get down 
so quickly? You must have had wings." 

"Up in the top ward! What do you mean?" 
he asked. 

"I just saw you light a match up there and 
supposed you had gone after something. 
Some one is up there." 

"Nonsense!" he said. "Nonsense! No 
one is up there." 

"Frank, there is someone up there, or in 
the house somewhere. I am no child. I 
know when I see a thing. Perhaps it is Ar- 
thur." 

Arthur was the colored man who worked 
for us ; he lived in the cottage under the hill. 

"Yes, it might be Arthur," said my hus- 
band, "for I told him to take one of the best 
mattresses up there, if he needed one," 

We took a kerosene lamp and went up the 
long stairway shouting Arthur's name, but 
Arthur was evidently far away, for we re- 
ceived no answer from him or anyone else. 

A queer feeling came over me, and with 
shaken nerves and grim forebodings, I clung 



14 Happy Hill 

closer to my husband as we went down the 
stairs. The tales I had listened to rang over 
and over in my mind. 

In vain I tried to calm myself and said, "I 
will not be foolish. Why, I never was afraid 
in light or darkness !" Still, I know, in my 
heart, that I was afraid. I ventured to say 
to my husband, "You know what we have 
heard about this place." 

"Bosh," he said, "Don't get foolish. It 
was all your imagination. I thought you 
had more sense than to take any stock in 
these stories.' ' 

"Well," I said, "I can't help it. I did see a 
light; more than that I feel the presence of 
someone in the house." 

Just then the colored man, Arthur, came 
in the side door with the evening paper that 
he had brought from town — so we could ac- 
count for him. I told him someone was in 
the attic. 

At that my husband laughed and said, 
"She thinks she saw someone, Arthur." 

But Arthur stared, stiffened up a little, and 
nervously said, "Guess I'll be going home." 

"No, please don't go just yet," I pleaded. 
"I wish you and Frank would go over every 



Happy Hill 15 

room upstairs and see if you can find anyone 
in the house." 

But my husband told Arthur to go home, 
for he knew he was tired after his day's 
work, and said, "My wife is a little nervous 
to-night; I guess she saw the moon." 

I remonstrated at his making light of my 
feelings and told them I was not afraid of 
anything living, but I was afraid of some- 
thing that seemed to be, and yet could not be 
found. I wearily remarked that I wished we 
lived somewhere else. 

"This is the first time I ever knew you were 
nervous," my husband said. "Perhaps you 
worked too hard to-day." 

At that time I was taking very good care 
of my health as we were expecting a little 
one in the near future. I told him I was not 
tired and was feeling well enough, but I knew 
something was wrong. 

"I feel as though someone were near me," 
I said; "someone I cannot see." And my 
mind reverted apprehensively to all the 
stories I had heard. "You know, Prank, we 
have made light of things they have told us 
about this place, but something is wrong 
here. There must have been some reason 



16 Happy Hill 

why no one would live in a nice place like 
this. There isn't a prettier home in town. 
Of course it is a little way out of the village, 
but I do not mind that, as I am used to the 
country." 

"Well, never mind their old gossip," he 
replied. "You know they must talk. This 
place is noted for that. Your digestion may 
be bad — better take a little bismuth and pep- 
sin." 

"I do not need medicine," I told him, "but 
I do feel faint." 

"Well, go to bed and you will forget your 
worrying in the morning." 

I followed his advice, undressed and went 
to bed, but was still disturbed in mind. How- 
ever, I tried to go to sleep. After some 
minutes, my husband — thinking I was asleep 
— took the light and went out, leaving me 
in the dark. I was very frightened, but kept 
quiet as I heard my husband's slippers shuf- 
fling through the long hall and up the stairs. 
I crept out of bed and listened at the door. 
I heard him go into every room in the house 
and thought to myself, "He does think there 
is someone in the house, or he would not be 
looking the second time." When I heard 



Happy Hill 17 

him coming down, I crept back into bed. As 
I did so, that peculiar gripping chill came 
over me, and I began to cry. 

When my husband came into the room and 
saw that I was awake, he asked me, "Had a 
nap? Why, what's the matter?" He bent 
closer, "Got a headache ?" 

"No," I answered, "but I have got a chill." 

"Well, that is too bad. Better let me call 
Arthur and have him go for father. He will 
fix you up. You know he is the best doctor 
ever." 

"No, don't send for him; I am just nervous. 
Let's have a cup of chocolate." 

We often did this for a little party by our- 
selves before retiring. So we made our 
evening lunch, and it did cheer me up. 

Going back to bed, I fell into a heavy sleep 
and did not awake until late in the morning. 
It was a bright sunny day. As I dressed, I 
heard the red breasted robin singing on the 
lawn, and the fear of the night before van- 
ished. 

Summer sped away swiftly, but there was 
the glorious Indian summer which lasted un- 
til nearly Christmas. There was hardly any 
severe weather, for the Gulf Stream tern- 



18 Happy Hill 

pered the climate in winter and gave us cool 
and refreshing sea breezes in summer. So 
in the glorious autumn, we still walked and 
drove and passed many pleasant days with 
our friends ; and I felt quite content. My 
first child, my dear little Josephine, was play- 
ing on the floor, gathering her playthings to- 
gether only to strew them about again. She 
was always happy, always sunny, and my 
love for her was great. It is a joy to remem- 
ber how, while her father sat reading by the 
big lamp, I sat and rocked her and sang her 
favorite lullaby: 

"Where do the birdies go when night comes 

on? 
"Some of them go to their cradle nest, 
"Some of them to their mother's breast, 
"But they all find a place that they love the 

best 
"When night comes on." 

She seemed to like this little lullaby bet-' 
ter than any other, and would drop off to 
sleep when I sang it to her. 

One night when she was going to sleep and 
all was quiet, there came to me a sense of an 



Happy Hill 19 

invisible presence. Suddenly the stillness 
was broken by a hard laugh, rough and rasp- 
ing, empty of all reason, but filled with ma- 
lice; a madman's laugh. "Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" 
it went. It froze my heart and rendered me 
speechless. 

Josie opened her eyes ; I sat tense and still, 
unable to move. My husband got up. 

"Who's that?" I managed to articulate 
thickly. Then there was a short chuckle 
more gruesome than before, if such a thing 
were possible; then silence reigned again. 

Neither of us spoke, but I saw my hus- 
band's hands twitch. I broke into a cold 
sweat, and my heart felt as though it would 
strangle me. I remembered the light I had 
seen up in the top ward that summer's night. 

My husband walked to the door, as the 
sound seemed to come from the wall or out- 
side. 

"Is anyone out there?" I asked. 

"I'll see," he answered, and went for the 
lantern. 

"Don't go there," I begged. "It may be 
some tramp or crazy person. It must be." 
But even as I said these words I felt that he 
would not find anyone. While he was light- 



20 Happy Hill 

ing the lantern I again pleaded, "Please don't 
go out; don't leave me." 

"I may as well look around," he answered, 
"Some tramp I suppose. The sound did not 
seem to be in the house." 

I heard him go up the walk slowly, as if 
looking in all directions, and I cried out, 
"Please come back!" Pear had overcome 
me, and my nerves were shaken beyond the 
point of further self control. I remained 
rigid, unable to control a single muscle. 
Every attempt to get up failed, and I held my 
child with stiffened arms. Only when she com- 
menced to cry loudly was the spell broken. 

My husband went around the entire house, 
and coming in by the side entrance said, "I 
don't see anyone. Guess it must have been 
some of the folks up the road going past." 

"No," I said, "it was right here by me, and 
quite near, too. Why, it seemed almost in 
my ear, didn't it to you?" 

Over my husband's face flitted a queer, but 
instantly controlled expression; and he did 
not make any reply. I know he did not un- 
der stand the phenomenon any more than I 
did, and I shivered beneath a creepy sense of 
mystery and fear of the unknown. 



Happy Hill 21 

Prank filled his pipe and calmly com- 
menced to smoke and read aloud some of 
the headings from the evening paper. Never- 
theless I could see he was disturbed more 
than he cared to show, but I felt a reluctance 
about speaking of the unexplainable inci- 
dent. 

My baby had gone to sleep again, yet I 
did not feel like putting her into her crib, and 
did not dare to leave her alone. Her father 
said, "Better tuck the little one in. You look 
tired. Let me take her; I'll put her to bed." 
He reached for her and carried her to her 
crib, as was often his custom. 

It was getting late, and as he went around 
the house to lock up for the night, I followed, 
although I said nothing of my fear. Con- 
stantly I asked myself, "Who was it? What 
was it? What do those sounds and lights 
mean?" 

"But there seemed to be no answer; no 
way to solve the question. Neither did my 
husband offer any further supposition. We 
left the light burning all night, as we had al- 
ways done since the baby had come, and this 
gave me a greater feeling of security. 



22 



Happy Hill 



The next morning, in the bright and cheery 
sunlight, the whole world seemed gay, for 
everything was radiant with life and beauty; 
yet I could not shake off the depression that 
gripped my heart, and a deep feeling of 
gloom that had taken possession of my mind. 
I was quiet, and hesitated to speak of the 
preceding night's events. Evidently my hus- 
band shared my feeling as he did not men- 
tion the affair again, seemed preoccupied, ate 
but little at breakfast, and I could see that 
his cheerfulness was assumed, for I knew 
every fleeting expression of his face. 

After breakfast he said, "I think I shall 
ride to Edworth this morning; will you come 
too?" I immediately thought of the work I 
had commenced the day before, and hesi- 
tated. 

"Never mind your work! Come on," he 
urged. 

But just at that moment, a neighbor came 
in and said, "I have come to spend the day," 
so of course it was decided that I should stay 
at home. I felt a relief to know I would have 
someone with me. My friend was a cheerful 
breezy woman, and in her presence, my 
spirits fast approached normal. 



Happy Hill 23 

The day passed pleasantly with idle talk 
about ordinary happenings. Somehow I 
could not bring myself to mention the mys- 
tery of the previous evening. It was so 
vague now that I would have felt foolish 
voicing it; nevertheless, I had the conviction 
that the sound I heard was not a normal 
sound ; that it was not a living soul that made 
it. 

My husband returned in the late evening 
and drove into the stable. I did not notice 
him, as my friend and I were cutting out a 
dress from a new pattern which I did not 
understand very well. When my husband 
came in, he was followed by a large dog. - 

"Mother," he said, "I want to make you ac- 
quainted with Prince, and he is a prince as 
far as a dog can be. He is a Saint Bernard 
and was brought from Barbedoes by one of 
the old sea captains. He is trained and very 
intelligent. I heard that the captain wanted 
a good home for him since he could not af- 
ford to feed him on account of such a large 
family and sickness in the house." 

He was a magnificent animal, iron gray in 
color, and stood as high as the table. His 
head was large with small ears ; his hair was 




"HE WAS A NOBLE FELLOW 



Happy Hill 25 

as long as a wolfs. As he walked his tail 
would brush the table. I believe he was of 
the breed that hunts for the lost in the snow. 
He was a noble fellow. 

He seemed so big at first that I hesitated, 
but when I called him to me and said, 
"Prince, do you like me?" and putting my 
arm around him, looked into his gentle plead- 
ing eyes, I knew I loved him. With an ex- 
pression of intense wistfulness, he came 
close, put his big paw in my lap, and sat 
down beside me. 

"This is your mistress, Prince/' said my 
husband. "Good boy, take care of her." And 
it seemed as though the dog understood, for 
he shook himself and wagged his tail. 

We put the baby on his back, and as she 
had never seen a dog, she thought he was a 
big cat, and said "Kitty, Kitty." He an- 
swered "Woof, Woof." 

Prince proved to be almost human in his 
actions and understanding. When my hus- 
band bought him, he turned back twice to his 
old master, and then followed Prank and 
never left us until he died. 

With my good dog I now felt I had a faith- 



26 Happy Hill 

ful friend and protector. If a stranger looked 
at him, that person would not bother either 
me or my property, for he was a good watch 
dog, as well as gentle and kind. 

He was so handsome that I took delight 
in having a beautiful collar made for him, 
and when he went to town, I put a large bow 
of blue ribbon on the side of it, which con- 
trasted well with his gray coat. As he walked 
softly along with his big feet, he seemed to 
know he was an impressive fellow, and ap- 
peared very proud, but never noticed others 
unless we spoke to them. 

I know that my husband felt less anxious 
about leaving the baby and me alone during 
the day with Prince on guard. 

Time went on, and the former mysterious 
sounds faded from my memory. Prince and 
Josie were together a great deal of the time. 
She was unusually gentle with him, but if 
she sat on his head or pulled his ears, he 
only rolled over, and would endure a great 
deal from her, for he seemed to love her. 

One morning, after he returned from fol- 
lowing the carriage a long distance, I gave 
him an extra dinner in a large platter, for I 
knew he was hungry. Before he commenced 



Happy Hill 27 

to eat, he pushed the platter along with his 
nose until it was close to Josie, who was 
sitting on a rug. It was as much as to say, 
"Eat some too." 

Another day, baby and I went for a walk, 
and met a neighbor who was on his way to 
my house to borrow a large basket which 
he knew I had. I told him it was in the 
stable and to go right in and get it. Baby 
and I soon turned to go back to the house, 
and I saw my neighbor coming toward me, 
but minus the basket. 

"Couldn't you find it," I asked. "I am 
sure it is just inside the stable door, as I told 
you, for I saw it there this morning." 

"Oh yes, Mrs. Leach, I found it all right, 
but I did not get it, for Prince took hold of it, 
too, and held on to it tight, and I declare his 
fur stood on end. Why, he knows me. I 
guess he is getting cross." 

I told him to come back with me, and I 
would get it for him. 

"I wish you would," he said, "for I don't 
want to go near that dog again." 

As we neared the stable, there was Prince 
lying down before the door. I spoke to him 
and said, "Prince, I want the basket." He 



28 Happy Hill 

never moved. I stamped my foot, and cried, 
"Prince, mind! Bring me the basket." He 
made a jump, grabbed it, and dropped it at 
my feet. Then he began to wag his tail, and 
wanted to give me his paw. I said, "All 
right, now give it to Mr. Holt." 

He grabbed the basket again, giving it a 
shake, and walking to Mr. Holt, let it fall 
before him. Whereupon that gentleman re- 
marked, "Quite a dog after all; guess you 
don't need to worry much with him around." 

I told my husband about it when he came 
home at night, and he said, "Well, I told him 
to watch out this morning when I left, and I 
guess he did all right. He wanted to follow 
me, but I sent him back, so I can plainly see 
I do not need to w r orry about anyone robbing 
here." He called Prince, called him "Good 
dog," and gave him some beefsteak. 

I felt very safe myself, as the days went on. 
Each noon I would write a little note to my 
husband and tie it on the dog's collar and he 
would trot off three miles to deliver it. It 
always reached my husband safely. 

One day I did not want him to go, so I 
chained him to a big piazza chair, and 
thought nothing more about him. 



Happy Hill 29 

About one o'clock that afternoon, his mas- 
ter drove into the yard, with the chair, well- 
battered up, in his carriage, and Prince walk- 
ing grandly beside it. 

"Why, what does this mean?" I asked. 

My husband laughed, and said, "He 
dragged that chair all the way to town. Some 
of the men he met on the way tried to un- 
chain it, but Prince would not let them." 

I then explained why I had chained him, 
and we concluded that the dog thought I had 
meant him to deliver the chair instead of a 
note. 

"Well," Prank said, "I got it all right, but 
it made quite a stir in town. I heard he was 
coming before he got there. I told him he 
was a faithful dog and brought him home, 
as I knew you would be worried when you 
found him gone. I suppose he thought it 
was time to go, so he started of his own ac- 
cord." 

Fall came again, and now my baby was 
quite a big girl; she and Prince still rolled 
on the floor and played on the lawn. We 
were busy making improvements on our 
house not only for convenience, but for out- 
side appearance. The paint for the outside 



\ 



30 Happy Hill 

finish was to be of a warm red color, and we 
had picked out new paper for the living room, 
as well as new draperies for the hall, and 
various other little things to add to our com- 
fort and cheer for the coming winter. Every- 
thing seemed on the sunny side for our fu- 
ture. 

Josie and I took long walks, and with 
Prince as a guard, we felt secure and well 
protected. Time passed pleasantly, and only 
at odd moments did I think of that mys- 
terious something. 

Over the hill was the sailors' burying 
ground, a lot that had been used when our 
residence was the Marine Hospital; many of 
the poor boys were resting there. Arthur 
would never look over there at night, for he 
said, "Those dead men walk." 

Arthur's wife, Clara, came to the house to 
do the laundry, and just before dark she 
would start to go home, for she and Arthur 
always got home before dark if possible. 

One evening I asked Arthur to go to town 
on an errand, for he thought nothing of 
walking that distance. He said, "Yes, m'am, 
I will do it early in the morning." 

"Won't you go down to-night? I will 



Happy Hill 31 

make it all right with you." But the poor 
superstitious man admitted he did not like to 
go after dark. I saw that he had something 
on his mind, and I said, "What is the matter, 
Arthur?" 

"Well," he admitted, "Clara and I've been 
thinking we're gwine to leave yer." 

"Why," I said, "aren't you satisfied; don't 
we pay you enough? I thought you were 
very comfortable; and you do just about as 
you like." 

"Don't suppose I could get a dog like 
Prince, do you?" he asked. 

"Why, I don't know," I replied. "Prince 
is a pretty expensive dog, you know; and it 
costs nearly as much to feed him as it does 
a man. I don't think you could afford it; 
besides, I don't think there is another dog 
around here like him anyway, for I believe a 
sea captain brought him to this country. 
Why do you want a dog?" 

"Well," he answered nervously, "you see, 
Clara and I don't just know how it is, but we 
have seen something coming down the hill 
nights, and we jes can't make out what it is." 

"Tell me about it," I said, very much in- 
terested all at once. 



32 Happy Hill 

"You see, about the first time it happened," 
he explained, "was over by the burying 
ground last moon, when we were hunting for 
them chickens as hatched out in the woods. 
You told Clara she could have them, but they 
are so wild, we can't get near them in the 
day time. We got some of them chickens, 
but a few was left. First night we caught 
two on the limb of a low tree, and when we 
started to come down the hill, there was 
someone ahead of us. We called and tried 
to talk to it, but it kept on goin', and then we 
ran after it, but it kept just as far ahead of 
us. Just as we got to the corner of the 
house it just plain vanished. We saw it, and 
then there was nothing to see." 

I did not speak, and he continued, "We 
were up there again last night in that old 
burying ground — I don't like grave yards, 
but that is where them chickens roost — to 
see if I could ketch the rest of them. The 
moon was pretty well up at the time, and we 
spotted them up a tree. Just as we climbed 
over the rail fence, something was coming 
towards us ; it just came right up, didn't start 
from anywhere as I can tell, unless it was 
the ground. The moon was bright and we 



Happy Hill 33 

could see the critter began to come up. We 
jumped over on the other side, and the crit- 
ter moved to the other side too. Yes, it just 
danced and glided, didn't make no noise. 
Clara grabbed a stake out of the fence, and 
so did I. Guess mine was eight or nine feet 
long. Then we stood still; I was so plum 
scared I couldn't move. It was coming to- 
ward us all the time, very slow, slow, more 
slow, moving like a shadow and seemed as 
though an arm was raised and pointed to- 
ward town, and then waved to us to go that 
way. 

"I found I had the stake raised up over 
mah head; Clara just fell down by mah side 
on the ground, and I heard her breathing. 
Still the shadow came nearer and was al- 
most on us. I raised my stake a little higher, 
and Clara says, 'Kill him!' Then everything 
was a blur, and the shadow thing began to 
turn white ; it was within a few feet of us. I 
let mah stake fall upon it with all mah 
strength, and then I fell to the ground. 

"Clara said it just disappeared or went out; 
at least she didn't see anything of it after 
that. 

"We got down the hill and into the house 



34 



Happy Hill 



and locked the door, but we said, 'No use 
locking the door— it will come right through; 
no lock will stop it.' " 

I do not know what to say, but this 
brought back all the worry and perplexity 
that I had felt in the past. My tongue 
seemed frozen; I could not speak. I wanted 
to laugh and tell him it was all nonsense, but 
I couldn't . Finally, I said, "Well, Arthur, I 
guess you can do the errand in the morning 
just as well." 

"Yes, ma'am. I will come in the morn- 
ing," he answered as he started for home 
down the hill. 

I sat down to think. As soon as my hus- 
band came home I repeated what Arthur had 
told me, and asked, "How many are over in 
the sailors' burying ground?" 

"I don't know; they go by numbers. There 
are no stones, but markers with numbers 
that are registered with the Board of Health. 
Father also had a record." 

I told him I wished the burying ground was 
not so near the house, for it was only down 
the hill, across the field and up another hill. 
It was enclosed by a fence and brush and 
trees. 



Happy Hill 35 

"Pooh," he replied, "those men have been 
at rest a long time. They don't bother any- 
one. Dead men don't walk." 

"I don't suppose they do, but don't you 
think they have folks who would like to 
know where they are buried?" I asked. 

"Oh, perhaps some did have, but sailors 
come from all parts of the globe and lose 
all track of their kin; some of them do not 
have any to lose. Sailors are liable to be 
rovers, and when they are sick they will put 
up at any port. We have had some pretty 
rough specimens here, of all nationalities. 
They were always trying to fight and it took 
strong discipline to keep them from it." 

"I said no more, but after that, I often 
looked across the field over the hill where I 
could see the tangled vines and the low 
bushes which had grown all over the graves, 
with only an occasional marker showing 
through. 

As the days glided by, I seemed possessed 
of an inexplicable nervousness. My thoughts, 
formerly sunny and happy, now seemed to 
run in an altogether different direction. At 
times I lost consciousness of physical sense, 
and could see things pertaining to a rarified 



36 Happy Hill 

environment with phenomena invisible to 
others while at the same time I lost my sense 
of the presence of things. When I came into 
contact with anyone at these times, I seemed 
to know all about them, their present, past, 
and future. 

I well remember Mr. Holt saying one day: 
"Fm going to the main land to-morrow; go- 
ing to take the little steamer that gets in at 
one o'clock. I want to put away some 
money Martha and I have saved. It is not 
quite safe to keep the money by us." 

While he was talking of other things, a 
cool mist seemed to envelope me ; then I saw 
Mr. Holt in water with his head and one arm 
above it; then he faded from the vision and I 
saw nothing but water. Presently the mist 
turned green and I saw him walking along 
in fields of green grass; he seemed smiling 
and happy. 

Then I came back to my normal senses; 
Mr. Holt was talking to Frank, and had not 
noticed I had not been listening. I knew I had 
looked into the future, and that a warning 
for his safety lay in the vision. He would 
be drowned if I did not prevent it. 

When there was a pause in the conversa- 



Happy Hill 37 

tion I said, "Are you sure you must go to the 
main land to-morrow?" 

"Yes, I have planned to go," said Mr. Holt. 

I did not want to seem unreasonable, and I 
hardly knew how to warn him without mak- 
ing him think me queer. I felt that he would 
have no understanding of what I had in mind, 
and that I must use a little diplomacy. 

"I wish you and Martha could wait for me, 
as I am going next week, and do not like to 
go on the boat alone." 

"I am in no particular hurry," he said, "but 
we don't like to keep the money in the house. 
Still, I guess it will be all right if we wait. I'll 
see what Martha says about it to-night." 

And all the time I was thinking, "Some- 
thing will happen if he goes to-morrow. / 
must not let him goT 

As Mr. Holt was taking his hat to go home 
I said, "I will consider it quite a favor if you 
will wait until next week." 

"Well, then, let's call it Monday, Mrs. 
Leach. Ho w will that do ? " I knew he was 
not carrying out his intentions, and at any 
other time I would not have been so persis- 
tent in my request. I think that he thought 
I was rather urgent about it, but in the past 



38 



Happy Hill 



I had done him many little favors, and he 
could not very well refuse my request. 

But he asked, "Do you mind if I bring the 
money over and put it in the doctor's safe?" 

"Why, surely you can, Mr. Holt. And you 
may be sure it will be safe, even if the house 
burns down. I keep all my valuables in it. 
It is large, so there's plenty of room." 

That same evening Mr. Holt and his wife 
came to call on us. With them they brought 
a little bag made of blue calico which con- 
tained two hundred and fifty dollars. This 
amount was a good deal to them, and they 
had saved it by hard work and a little in- 
come from a cranberry bog that they had 
cultivated. 

We put the money in the safe, and gave 
them a receipt to show it was there. We 
laughed and said it would be safe in case we 
should die suddenly. After a little further 
talk, we made arrangements to sail the fol- 
lowing Monday. 

All the next day I thought to myself, "I 
wish I weren't so positive about things." I 
did not even talk to my husband about this 
second sight, for I did not know what to call 
it, or how to explain it at all. 



Happy Hill 39 

Nevertheless, I felt I had done right. The 
day was nearly gone, and I was getting the 
evening meal, when my husband drove into 
the yard. He did not stop to unharness, but 
came directly in and said, "Mother, the little 
steamer's lost." 

I had not heard the news as we had no 
telephone in those days, I became weak and 
dropped into the chair beside me, and faintly 
asked if all the passengers were lost. Frank 
told me that only three swam to shore safely. 

"I knew it," I said; "I knew it. Oh! I am so 
glad, so glad!" 

"Glad of what?" Frank asked. "Did you 
want them to drown?" 

"Why, Fm glad that Hiram and Martha 
did not take that boat. I saw him in the 
water in a vision yesterday, and I tried to 
prevent him from going." If I had not been 
excited I doubt if I should have told this. 

Frank looked at me bewildered as I tried 
to explain, "I just felt that something was 
going to happen to that boat to-day; I had a 
warning, and that is why I tried to keep them 
from going." 

He sat down beside me and asked me to 
tell him about it. I don't remember what I 



40 Happy Hill 

said, but when I was through he said to me : 
"Little girl, you are a fortune teller. Did you 
know it?" 

Just then Martha came running in. She 
was crying in her excitement, and she came 
and put her arms around me and said, "Oh, 
how dreadful! You know the steamer! You 
know it's lost! I am so thankful, for it was 
you who saved us. We should have gone 
down to-day if it hadn't been for you, and all 
of our money would have gone to the bot- 
tom." 

"Yes, Martha, I am thankful, that you and 
Hiram did not go, and are both safe." 

"Yes," she continued, "Hiram just thanks 
God now. All the time before, he was fuss- 
ing because he was set on going to-day, but 
he wanted to accommodate you. We are so 
glad the money was saved." 

I laughed and said, "You would not have 
had much use for that money if you had 
gone to the bottom, would you?" 

Just then Hiram came in, and hearing our 
last remark said, "Guess that's right; the 
money wouldn't have done us much good if 
we went under with it. And I'm obliged to 
you, Mrs. Leach, for putting me off." 



Happy Hill 41 

Hiram was smoking, something he had 
never done before in the house, but he was 
excited and did not seem to think of it. He 
was a good Christian man, and getting down 
on his knees rendered a heart-felt thanks- 
giving. 

I looked up at my husband, as Martha 
finished an "Amen," and saw that there 
were tears in his eyes. "Hard luck for the 
rest," he said. "They say the Captain was 
drunk, but God forgive him for he went 
down, too." 

As Martha patted Prince on the head, she 
said, "I know that I have you to thank for 
saving our lives to-day." 

All I said was "Yes, Martha, I am very 
glad you waited for me." 

Some weeks after this last stirring event, 
Arthur came up one morning and asked, 
"Boss around?" 

"No, Arthur, he has just gone to town; is 
there anything I can do for you?" 

"No, but guess we will be leaving you soon. 
We don't want to stay in the Hollow another 
night." 

I knew what he meant — it was the indefin- 
able something that was driving him away. 



42 Happy Hill 

I told him I was sorry to lose him and Clara. 

"Does Clara want to go too?" I asked. 

"Yes, she is all packed up. She won't stay 
there no more. We will go to New Bedford 
as soon as the new boat runs." 

"Do you know of some man and wife to 
take your place? You have so many friends." 

"I sure don't," he answered. "They're all 
afraid of this place. They don't come here 
nohow. No, they don't like ghosts." 

"So that's the trouble! I guess you imag- 
ine that!" I said. 

"No, I don't, Missus," replied Arthur. "You 
know you got ghosts in your house too. I 
seen the lights up in your window." 

So they went away, and we tried to replace 
them, as we needed help around the house 
and in the stable; but everyone we asked to 
come and work for us would say they were 
engaged, or their folks were sick and needed 
them, or some other similar excuse. And all 
the time they really wanted work. 

One evening, while sitting in the deepening 
twilight with some friends and talking about 
how hard it was to get help, we called Prince 
to do some of his wonderful tricks. I re- 



H a p p y H i 1 1 43 

marked that I was never afraid with Prince 
with me. 

I arose to light the lamp, and as the match 
flared up, there was a minute of silence ; then 
we heard a shriek and a most diabolical 
laugh followed by a hideous hiss and a re- 
pellent "Ha, Ha!" It was the same laugh we 
had heard months before. 

Everyone seemed dumb. I began to trem- 
ble. My husband jumped up, grabbed 
Prince by the collar and said, "Find him, go 
for him!" But Prince did not move, and 
held his head down as though someone had 
struck him. 

One of our friends exclaimed, "My God! 
What was that?" Another replied, "The 
Devil, I guess." 

The women were ashen-white, and I my- 
self was terror-stricken. Prince only 
crouched down lower — an unusual proceed- 
ing for him. We could not seem to place 
the direction from which the sound came, 
but everyone thought it was right in the 
midst of us. 

Our guests were terribly afraid, and a quiet 
fell upon us all. Soon some of them re- 
marked, "Guess we must be going home." 



44 Happy Hill 

We urged them to stay, but all had some 
excuse to go, and I do not think anyone could 
have hired them to stay. They drove off 
very silently, and I felt that they would never 
come to visit us there again. 

When we were alone that night, I said to 
my husband: "What can this mystery be? 
What does it mean? We must leave this 
place for I cannot stay here any longer. 
Don't you see something is wrong. Even 
our good dog would not hunt for anyone, 
so I know there was no one living to hunt 
for." 

My husband admitted for the first time that 
it was a mystery to him. Neither of us slept 
much that night. The next morning I was 
sick and feverish. My husband also had a 
headache, but was up and around as usual. 

I dressed and tried to do my daily tasks, 
but I felt very weak. Frank told me I had 
better have his father come and tone me up ; 
so when he came, we told him about the af- 
fair of the previous night. 

He only said, "It is a little strange. Don't 
suppose someone was playing a joke on you, 
do you?" 

"No," I quickly replied, "I have heard it 



Happy Hill 45 

before, some time ago, only it was more 
gruesome than this. Oh! I do not want to 
stay here any longer! How can I be happy 
with that shadow around me all the time? I 
can feel it. I know it is here, but I cannot 
explain it. Please tell your son to live 
somewhere else. I cannot be left alone here 
again." 

"But," he said, "you have the dog." 

"Yes, but he did not move! he was afraid 
too." 

There was a little silence then. After a 
while Father said, "It is too bad to leave a 
nice home like this. You are pretty well off 
here, and this house is yours; why, there 
isn't a better place in town." 

"I know it, Father, but don't you see how 
it is? Our friends will not come here again; 
and I can imagine the talk about town that 
will follow what has happened here. Arthur 
and Clara have gone, and no one will come 
to work for us. I will not stay here alone 
one hour after this." 

My temperature was rising and I was al- 
most ill. Frank and his father passed out of 
the room and I could hear them talking. — 
"Yes, there was some talk about this place, 



46 Happy Hill 

but I never took any notice of it," said his 
father. "No, they did not stay here long af- 
ter they rented the place. You have been 
here three years and have not solved the 
mystery." 

Then I heard my husband say, "My wife 
says there is no one living to find. She has 
some queer ideas sometimes." 

"Well," the doctor said, "you had better 
stay around until your wife gets better, for 
she is really sick, but as soon as her nerves 
get straightened out, she will be all right. I 
have always considered her quite level-head- 
ed. She will be all right in a few days." 

My fever ran intermittently for several 
days, sometimes reaching 102 and then go- 
ing back to 100, then down to normal. In 
the mornings I would feel that I could get 
up, at noontime I would not feel so well, and 
at sundown my temperature would go up 
again. This continued for some time, but 
gradually I began to eat and get stronger. 

An old lady who had been one of the doc- 
tor's nurses for years stayed with me. Good 
old Angeline was one of the old settlers and 
only worked now in her old age to accom- 
modate her friends. With her loving service, 



Happy Hill 47 

she was like an old-time mammy — only a 
white one. 

After a while I was up and was able to at- 
tend to nearly all the work myself. Generally 
the household duties were nothing to me, as 
I was young and strong and could do quite 
a little hustling about in the early morning 
hours. 

We never mentioned the past occurrence, 
although I was thinking all the time, "I can- 
not stay here; this is not home to me any 
longer." I had the feeling that I must close 
up the house and make another home. 

One day I saw my husband and his father 
looking up at the house. There was a car- 
penter with them and I knew that they were 
talking of other improvements that we had 
planned in the past. 

A feeling like a cool breath passed around 
me, and then all at once everything became 
void — just space and darkness, then hot 
flashes came and went all over me. I seemed 
to be near a furnace, for I felt so hot; then, 
after a pause, things were natural again. 

I stepped to the door and asked, "What are 
you planning now?" 

"We are thinking of putting an outer en- 



48 



Happy Hill 



try at the side door, a sort of little sun par- 
lor. It will be pleasant for warm days, for it 
gets the south sun here." 

I felt that all the repairs that could be 
made on the house would be useless; that 
the time would be ill spent, energy wasted, 
and the money thrown away. 

I repeated to myself, "We must get away 
from here. I don't want any repairs." 

But I did not want to appear unreasonable. 
My father-in-law was a man of good judg- 
ment, and I could not very well dispute him, 
but I reminded him, "You know we are going 
to Maine for a little change; why not wait 
until we come back before you do any more 
to the house?" 

I can remember clearly how the doctor 
said, "Work before play," and my husband 
agreed, "Guess we will get at it while the 
weather is good." 

How could I make them understand what 
I felt? I suppose if I had lived in the time 
of witches, I would have been called one had 
I expressed my feelings. 

I felt that I could not stay at our house an- 
other winter. That evening when my hus- 
band was having a good smoke, I said to him, 



Happy Hill 49 

"I cannot be happy here and I shall never be 
well as long as I stay in this house. I do 
not feel like my old self; my nerves are all 
on edge. Why can't we make a change? 
We aren't too poor to live in town. We 
surely don't have to consider every cent." 

But my husband thought the property was 
too good to leave, the house too good to 
close up and let go to ruin. After some hesi- 
tation he said, "No, I don't feel that we can 
afford it." 

I was disappointed and my heart was 
heavy. My depression was greater than I 
could tell. For a moment I seemed to dream 
that everything was dark and void, that the 
atmosphere was filled with dust and smoke; 
then all was darkness. 

When I came to myself again, I heard my 
husband saying: "Yes, I think some shade of 
light green, or some soft color, would be 
better. Red is not so good for the nerves. 
Yellow or blue is more comforting. You do 
not want red again." 

I said, "I wish you would wait a while be- 
fore you do any papering. You know it stirs 
the house up so." 

Whereupon my husband replied, "Women 



50 



Happy Hill 



are beyond me. I thought you wanted that 
papering done some time ago." 

I tried to pass it off by saying, "Well, you 
never know when a woman is going to 
change her mind." 

And Prank said, "I find that is true," — a 
sharp remark for one usually so courteous. 

The outside repairs were started next day. 
It was a beautiful golden and brown autumn, 
and for more than six weeks we had dry har- 
vest weather. Nature seemed to smile, and 
although a poet says, "Oh, autumn, why so 
soon?" an autumn like this could not come 
too soon. The air was sweet with clear 
northwest winds, and the ground was very 
dry, as rain had not fallen for many 
weeks. The repairs, more numerous than 
we first had planned, were finished at last. 
And now those on the inside were com- 
menced. My head had been aching for sev- 
eral days past, and my mind would not be at 
rest. Yet things seemed to be getting back 
to normal, and we never referred to the past 
mysterious events. 

One night I was nervous and felt men- 
tally distressed so I thought I would go to 



Happy Hill 51 

bed early and see what a good long sleep 
would do to restore my good spirits. 

I left Angeline with my little girl, and, go- 
ing to my room, drew the shades, undressed 
and went to bed. While I lay there, a 
strange, sweet peace came over me and I 
rested comfortably. As the shadows began 
to come with night fall, I thought of the 
sewing I was doing, of the little red coat I 
had nearly completed for my little Josie, and 
I thought how well she would look with her 
soft brown eyes and fair silky hair. 

Then my mind wandered on till I went to 
sleep. Some time later I woke with a start. 
My husband was still in the living room 
smoking. I remember just how his cigar 
smelled, for he always smoked the same 
fragrant brand. I heard old Angeline sing- 
ing as she was getting Josie to sleep. 

I thought I would call to my husband to 
bring in the lamp, when suddenly it seemed 
light. I glanced toward the door leading 
into the hall. It opened and a shadow came 
toward me. I did not feel afraid; and just 
waited. I saw a woman, but could not hear 
her, for she just glided up to my bedside. 

I was not alarmed; in fact, I was pleased, 



52 



Happy Hill 



and reached out my hand toward her. She 
took it in both of hers. I could not feel her 
— just sensed her. With a little caress, she 
leaned down and kissed my forehead. There 
was no sound, but I felt the kiss. It was like 
a soft breeze. I was aware of her voice say- 
ing, "One of my good children." I felt drawn 
to her and raised myself up a little higher. 
Then I noticed she was tall, dark and slen- 
der and that her eyes were very black. 

She wore an old fashioned bonnet tied 
with a ribbon under her chin, a red and black 
cassimere shawl folded so that a point came 
in the front and in the back. The shawl was 
of good quality and had evidently once been 
very stylish. It was fastened with two gold- 
headed pins connected by a small chain. 

She smiled very kindly at me. I leaned 
nearer, but she kept a little distance between 
us all the time. She went toward the hall 
door that led to the big front door, and she 
seemed to beckon me to follow her. I did 
so, but there was still that little distance be- 
tween us. 

As we neared the front door, I did not see 
her. I looked out of the window in the big 
door, and saw her outside, although the door 



Happy Hill 53 

had not been opened. She pointed to the 
forest on the other side of the road; and all 
the time the distance between us seemed to 
be growing greater. 

I called to her to come back, but as I 
looked at her in the distance again, I saw 
fire all about her; she was still beckoning for 
me to come. I opened the door and started 
to follow, but the fire dazzled me so I could 
not see very well. I rubbed my eyes with my 
handkerchief, and when I looked again she 
was all fire. All I could see of her was her 
face, and one arm and hand which beckoned 
to me and then pointed a way off in the dis- 
tance. 

That was all. I saw no more, for I came 
back to myself — to the worldly sphere — and 
found myself on the piazza in my night dress. 
I was afraid and gave a shriek. My husband 
was instantly at my side asking, "What was 
it? What is the matter? Why are you out 
here? You have no clothes on! Why aren't 
you in bed? Has anyone harmed you? For 
God's sake, what is the matter?" 

He put his arm around me and carried me 
into the house and put me in bed again. 
Angeline appeared on the scene with a light. 



54 



Happy Hill 



I said to my husband frantically, "Oh, we 
must get away from here right away. You 
must listen to me this time. We are in great 
danger. Something will ruin us if we stay 
here any longer." 

My husband thought I had been walking 
in my sleep and told me to try to be quiet 
and go to sleep again. He said I must have 
had a bad dream. 

"No," I said, "It was not a dream." And I 
told Angeline to come too, and listen to me. 
"A woman has been here. She came to my 
bedside right here. She was tall and slim 
and had a sweet face. I felt that she loved 
me and I loved her too. She had on a long 
red and black cassimere shawl folded in 
points about her shoulders. It came to the 
bottom of her dress and was pinned together 
with gold-headed pins. She had on a little 
bonnet tied under her chin, and her eyes were 
very black. Oh, I shall always remember 
just how she looked." 

"Why," Angeline broke in, "that was your 
husband's mother. I nursed her in her last 
sickness. That was when your husband 
was just a little fellow. You have described 
just the way she used to dress." 



Happy Hill 55 

"Oh, I knew it," I said, "for she seemed to 
belong to me. She beckoned me out of the 
house and she went away in a cloud of fire. 
Oh, it was terrible! The last I saw of her 
was her face, and one arm and hand which 
pointed a way off in the distance." 

When I came to, I heard the voice of my 
father-in-law saying: "Your mother has been 
dead almost forty years. Yes, that is the 
way she dressed. I gave the shawl to your 
sister in Providence. I don't understand it. 
Your wife must have some supernatural 
power. I do not know much about such 
things, and I have not understood her moods 
at times. She has made you a good wife, 
and I am sure she is sane." 

I raised myself up and said, "Yes, Father, 
I am perfectly sane. I told the truth last 
night. Frank's mother warns us to go away 
from here, and I am going. You can all 
stay here, if you want to, forever and ever, 
but I am going as soon as I can pack my 
trunk." 

They did not answer me and went out. I 
dressed, feeling weak and faint. Then I went 
into the living room and said, "I mean what 
I say. I will not live here any longer." They 




e^ 



I FOUND MYSELF ON THE PIAZZA IN 
MY NIGHT-DRESS." 



Happy Hill 57 

knew that I meant what I said, for I never 
had taken so firm a stand before. 

My husband did not reply, but the doctor 
said, "Well, where will you live?" And I 
answered I would live anywhere but in that 
house. 

"We might go to Portland for a couple of 
weeks for a little change," said my husband. 
"Perhaps a visit to her old home would do 
her good." He was addressing his father, 
but I interrupted and said, "Yes, I want to 
go to-morrow." 

"Why, it will take a few days to get things 
in readiness to leave." 

"No," I replied, "I shall leave here tomor- 
row. Please, please don't argue with me. 
My head is beginning to ache, and I shall 
grow worse every hour I remain." 

"All right," he agreed. "Pick up a few 
things that you will need, and I will try and 
get someone to close up the house." 

I did not care to give the house a thought. 
My only desire was to get away from it just 
as quickly as possible. One more night there 
seemed an eternity, and if there had been a 
boat running that day, I should have made a 



58 Happy Hill 

scene if they had not allowed me to go that 
afternoon. 

Ordinarily I was very particular about the 
clothing I took when going away, especially 
if I were going to my home town, as I liked 
to have my old friends see me well-dressed; 
but now I gathered up any thing that came 
to hand. 

My husband began to pick out things to 
pack, but I said, "Don't bother; I only want 
something for Josie." 

"Well, I want a few things myself, for we 
shall be gone for a couple of weeks," he re- 
plied. 

"We shall be gone from here forever," I 
said. I guess he thought I was getting hy- 
sterical, and he laughed and asked: "You will 
let me take an extra necktie, won't you?" 

In my thought was the vision of the 
woman that had come to me, how she had 
beckoned and then pointed away off in the 
distance. And so a restless night passed. 
Not until we were on board the boat did I 
breathe freely. All at once the high tension 
left me, and I felt relieved. A thrill of hap- 
piness came over me and I commenced to 
sing. 



H a p p y H i 1 1 59 

Frank noticed the change and remarked, 
"You are feeling better already." 

"Yes, I am feeling fine." 

"Well, that is the best news yet, for I was 
getting worried about your health. You 
know you and the little girl mean all the 
world to me." 

While we were at dinner in the salon, my 
husband got up from the table and shook 
hands with an old weather beaten man. They 
talked a few minutes, and then they came 
up to me, and Frank said, "I want you to 
meet my wife, Captain Harding." We shook 
hands, and not very lightly either, as he had 
a strong grip, and I don't think he was much 
used to a lady's society. 

Captain Harding was an old sea captain, 
and my husband had known him when he 
was a boy. In fact, he was quite a friend of 
my husband's family, for my husband's bro- 
ther had, when a boy, made a cruise on one 
of the old Captain's whaling vessels from 
New Bedford. My husband called up mem- 
ories of boyhood days, and we spent a 
pleasant hour talking with him. 

As we were about to go up on deck, the 
old man said, "Hold on, Frank, I wanted to 



60 Happy Hill 

ask you if you knew whether those two 
devils I put in your father's hospital died or 
not. 'Twas some years ago, and I said, 'The 
Lord be thanked/ when I landed them there. 
They had shipped from some foreign port 
where we put in. We were short handed, 
and had to take what we could find for help. 
They were about the worst specimens I ever 
had for a crew. They hated each other and 
the only way I could prevent them from kill- 
ing each other, was to keep them in irons. 
Even when they got quite sick, so sick that 
they could not eat their salt chunk, they 
would swear at each other. 

"One had the most horrible laugh I ever 
heard. He would give a roar and a 'Ha,ha,' 
and then say to the other one, 'I will walk 
every night from my grave ; I will never leave 
you; I will always be behind you; I am the 
Devil; only my tail is hidden.' This fellow 
was some sort of a Hindoo or Indian. He 
did some things I could never see through 
nor understand. He would light a match and 
I would see it burning, and then no matter 
how closely I looked, the burnt match would 
disappear. Sometimes, I thought he swal- 
lowed them. If he did, his stomach must 



Happy Hill 61 

have been full of wood. The other sailors 
were all afraid of him." 

The old Captain seemed to like to tell the 
story of these two men, and he continued, 
"Both swore to haunt the other, I hope they 
were sick enough to die, for they were a drag 
on humanity." 

I looked at my husband, and he looked at 
me, but neither of us spoke. We were both 
thinking of the terrible laugh we had heard 
and of the match that flared up and went 
out so quickly. 

The Captain apparently had forgotten to 
wait for a reply and commenced to spin some 
other yarn. 

The next morning, we landed in Portland, 
Maine. The newsboy came on board with 
the morning papers. I bought one and care- 
lessly opened it. 

On the front page I saw in big head lines, 
"Forest Fire Sweeps Town of Milton. Val- 
uable Property Destroyed — Three Hotels and 
Ten Dwelling Houses Burned to Ground/' 
Then the account continued: "The fire ran 
so swiftly and silently in the dry underbrush, 
owing to the continued spell of dry weather, 
that it is feared some lives may be lost. At 



62 Happy Hill 

the last account this morning, the old Marine 
Hospital, owned by Doctor Leach, also the 
cottage in the hollow, have been swept away. 
These went during the night. It is reported 
that the doctor's son and his family were 
away. We hope that this is true, as they 
probably would not have escaped with their 
lives. The place was called the Happy Hill, 
and was a landmark." 

I felt faint, and the paper dropped at my 
side. I cannot explain what my feelings 
were, but they were of thanksgiving and 
joy — my little Josie and my husband might 
have been burned to death. Then it flashed 

through my brain — the warning! Thank 

God for that warning! 

My husband came to my side and picked 

up the paper. He had read about it too. I 

looked up at him and said, "Your mother 

saved us." 

Prank took off his hat and stood bare 

headed with bowed head as if in prayer. 

"Yes," he said, "God bless her." And I saw 

the tears running down his face. 

Oh, you, who have a presentiment or 

warning, take heed! Do not pass it lightly 



Happy Hill 63 

by. Many years have passed since then, and 
these thoughts come to me at night. Now 
I am old, but I can say truthfully, that what 
I have told you is no fiction, but the sober 
truth. Some of the old settlers of Milton 
would remember the incidents I have told. 

My husband has passed away, and I am 
calm and peaceful. Now, when passions are 
no more, and it will soon be time to go to 
my other home, I feel sure that he will ex- 
plain to me that the Hindoo was responsible 
for the sinking of the boat, and setting fire 
to the forest. For I'm positive that he was 
never buried in that little grave-yard just 
beyond the house. 

There is one thing that I do know, and 
that is, Frank's mother always had the pre- 
monition that the place would be burned 
down some day by a forest fire. 

Whether it was her spirit, or my intuition 
that determined my leaving Happy Hill, I 
do not know. Some day, the real story will 
be told, then we shall know whether the dead 
are able to communicate with the living. 
While I'm convinced that they can, still I 
hesitate in coming out openly, for I do not 
like to be looked upon as a sorcerer. 



64 



Happy Hill 



I'm sure you'll not condemn me for the 
attitude I have taken in this matter. It is 
best for others to reveal what is beyond the 
grave. 




H 113 82 






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